


Coffee vs. Tea

by Flames and Fairy Tales (Flames_and_Fairy_Tales)



Series: Caffeine Addicts [3]
Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Aftermath of the Guppy Case, Gen, Lockwood gets called out, Quill is mature (sort of), Set during TCS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-21 01:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Fairy_Tales/pseuds/Flames%20and%20Fairy%20Tales
Summary: “So, is there any particular reason you feel like committing suicide by Ghost Touch, Tony?”Quill is unable to keep his opinion about the events in the Guppy house to himself.





	Coffee vs. Tea

“So, is there any particular reason you feel like committing suicide by Ghost Touch, Tony?” The moment the words had left his mouth, Quill felt like kicking himself. This was not the way he had wanted to broach the subject, but the silence in the cab had felt like it was smothering him until it was all he could do to break it. They were sitting in the backseat of a night cab together. Holly Munro was sitting next to the driver, a bald, broad-shouldered man with a thick Cockney accent who spoke too much and too fast as if that would hide the fact that being out at night terrified him. 

 

Whether she wanted to be as far away as she could from the silver net covered jar of teeth that was the source of the haunting they had just solved, or from her brooding employer, Quill wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t blame her. The night in the Guppy house had taken its toll on everyone. The younger agents had been pushed to the brink by the things they had seen and heard in that house, and Quill by what he  _ hadn’t. _

 

Without a doubt, the worst part of the evening was when they had drawn out the ghost though. It had worked brilliantly, the jar sitting on the backseat in between him and Lockwood was the proof of that, but Quill was sure that everyone present had aged a decade in the process. He had ached to drag Lockwood out of the house by the scruff of his neck and give him a good rollicking for the stunt he had pulled, but as an observer it hadn’t been his place. That didn’t mean he couldn’t question the younger agent now though, so he waited for Lockwood’s reaction.

 

Anthony Lockwood turned away from the window he had been staring out of listlessly to give him a sharp, calculating look. It was as if he was daring him to take the question back, but now that it had been said, Quill didn’t want to.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lockwood said. His voice was cool and steady, carefully controlled not to reveal any emotion by its tone or volume. There was a twitch in his cheek that betrayed him though, his poker face breaking slightly under the pressure of exhaustion and emotional turmoil.

“Don’t start, Lockwood,” Quill shot back, dropping the antagonising nickname. “What you did back there was insane.”

 

“It worked” Lockwood had resumed his earlier position and was staring out of the window again, watching the dark streets of London pass by in a blur of rain and Ghost Lamps. He was holding his hurt arm close to his chest as if to close himself off from the conversation. 

Quill wasn’t deterred. During his time as a supervisor he had gotten quite skilled in dragging unwilling teenagers into a conversation, and Lucy had given him quite some practice too in the past few months. Of course, the difference was that Lucy had come to like his company over time, and would now divulge her thoughts without too much prompting.

“What would have happened if George hadn’t gotten out the source when he did? You took a huge risk, Lockwood.” 

“Again, it paid off didn’t it?” 

“It did,” Quill reluctantly agreed, “but there were other options back there, options that didn’t put your life at immediate risk.” 

“Like what?” Lockwood was still turned away from him, but Quill met his eyes in the reflection of the window. 

“Putting a length of chains in the threshold of the kitchen to slow the Visitor down, like the manual prescribes for instance,” Quill started, counting on his fingers. “Locking it in the hallway by spreading salt on the floor. Using iron filings. Hell, even going in with two operatives instead of pulling the lonesome hero act would most likely have worked.” 

Lockwood gave a half hearted shrug that made Quill want to reach out and shake him. “Lockwood you can’t be so callous about your life, you put yourself in unnecessary da-” 

“You are not my supervisor Kipps!” Lockwood bit suddenly, turning back around to look at him. “You were along as an observer. It’s not your place to give your opinion, and I certainly didn’t ask for it!” 

 

“Well you are getting it anyway!” From the corner of his eye, Quill saw Holly turn around in her seat and cast a worried look at the backseat at their raised voices, but he didn’t pay her any mind. “This isn’t just about you throwing your life away, Lockwood! You are the leader of a team, it is your responsibility to keep your employees safe! How are you going to protect George and Holly when you are dead?” 

“I’m not going to die,” 

“That isn’t for a lack of trying!” 

 

The cab came to a sudden halt, and for a moment Quill wondered if the driver had decided to throw them out before they came to blows on his backseat. Then he saw Lockwood fish some cash out of his pocket and hand it through the latch before opening the door, and he realized they had reached the furnaces. With a sigh he grabbed the revolting source and got out too. 

 

Holly didn’t give them a chance to start their argument again, marching towards the pedestrian entrances of the furnaces with surprising speed for her short stature. Lockwood was able to keep up with his long legs, but Quill was forced to rush after them, hurriedly handing off his rapier and rushing across the cobblestoned courtyard. He rolled his eyes in annoyance; he was the one with the source they needed to hand off. 

 

Quill had half a mind to walk to Harold Mailer’s booth just to annoy Lockwood. The blond furnace worker was notorious for his nervous, skittish behaviour. He would stammer and twitch, over complicate the process of handing off sources and generally make a fool of himself. Quill didn’t particularly enjoy dealing with him either, but Lockwood in all his self possessed confidence, disliked the boy with a passion. 

 

He decided against it. They had all had a long night and despite his misgivings with Lockwood’s attitude, Quill didn’t actually want to get into a fight with him right now. So he walked up to the booth where Lockwood and Holly were waiting and plonked the jar down on the counter. 

“Joined venture between Fittes and Lockwood and Co?” The bloke behind the counter - Christie, according to the nametag pinned to his work clothing- raised an eyebrow as he reached for a stack of forms. “I thought Lockwood and Co was independent?”   

“We are,” Lockwood said, his voice a little sharp. “We took a commision from miss Fittes, Kipps is just an observer.” 

“One who needs to sign off on those forms,” Quill interjected. Christie nodded and went through the papers, asking for the specifics of the capture and writing them down in barely legible scrawls. 

 

“Seems like this one’s quite the nuisance,” he concluded as he handed over the authorisation form to Quill. 

“yes, it really was,” Holly said with feeling, “that ghost was a  _ terrible  _ nuisance.” she gave a little shudder at the memory. 

Quill shrugged and signed the form with a quick flick of the wrist. Now they were long done with the job,  most of his concern was taken up by Lockwood’s behaviour instead of the cannibal ghost he couldn’t see or hear, anyway. It felt better to focus his attention on a problem he  _ was  _ able to deal with, instead of lingering on the terror of unsensed entities.

“Can we leave the thing with you? It’s been a long night and I think we would all like to get home,” Quill said as he shoved the forms back towards Christie. The furnace attendant quickly checked all forms again before stamping the stack. 

“Sure, if you don’t have to witness the burning. It will be done in a tick though.”

Quill shot a look at Lockwood and Holly. They both looked exhausted even if Holly managed to hide it behind a polite smile. 

“We’re sure,” he decided. Stuff the regular procedure. 

If Lockwood was grateful to leave, he didn’t show it. He hadn’t spoken much inside the reception hall and continued his silence while they walked back out the door and onto the cobblestones of the courtyard. He walked fast, his coat flapping a little in the drizzle. With a sigh Quill hastened his pace.

“We weren’t done talking yet, Lockwood,” he said, making a grab for the Lockwood’s shoulder. Lockwood dodged him skilfully and turned around, glaring at him through the lock of hair that was starting to curl because of the humidity. 

“I think we were,” he spoke. He seemed to have repressed his anger again during the few minutes they had been inside, stuffed it deep inside a corner of his heart and slammed the door closed. He was standing in the middle of the courtyard calmly now, watching him with those dark, calculating eyes. 

“No we aren’t, I want an explanation for your suicidal beha-,” 

“Tough luck.” Lockwood cut in, without so much as raising his voice. “You were along as an observer, I don’t owe you anything.” 

“Perhaps you don’t owe me,” Quill conceded, “But I’m not the one who is most influenced by your recklessness. What do you think it would do to your employees if you die? What it would do to Lucy?” 

 

Quill had a split second to realize what a good policy it was that the furnaces required them to hand off their rapiers. If Lockwood had had his sword, he would probably have had a more severe injury than the small bruise that would bloom up where Lockwood’s knuckles had grazed his cheek. 

“Shut up!” The young man roared as Quill stumbled back. Somewhere behind him Holly let out a squeak of alarm, but he knew better than to take his eyes off of Lockwood right now. “You don’t know anything about us!” Lockwood continued, not lowering his volume in the slightest. “You don’t know anything about  _ me _ !” He rushed forward to shove Quill, but Quill dodged him and grabbed his arm. 

 

“Don’t I?” Quill questioned, trying not to feel guilty for the way Lockwood flinched under his grasp. It was the injured arm he was holding, which meant it probably hurt Lockwood more than he had intended. Then again, Lockwood had charged him, he was defending himself. “I know you like to pretend to be all in confident and in control. I know you’re holding the people you call your friends at an arm’s length distance because you are afraid off showing your feelings.” Quill was staring right into Lockwood’s eyes and watched as the young man went even paler than he already was. 

 

“I’m not-” 

“You are,” Quill cut off the protest before it could even start properly. He let go off Lockwood’s arm, and Lockwood stumbled backwards a few steps. Holly was standing a little way behind them, afraid to come closer but unsure whether she needed to call somebody to break up the fight. 

“And you know what, that’s your own baggage to deal with. I honestly couldn’t care less. But you are hurting your team - your friends - with your behaviour, and if I am the one who has to call you out on your bullshit, so be it.” 

 

Lockwood didn’t reply. He stared at Quill for a moment, his eyes hard and cold. Then he turned around and marched towards the exit of the furnaces without so much as a backwards glance in Quill’s direction. 

 

Holly finally came closer, worrying her lip and glancing at Lockwood’s retreating form. 

“Go after him,” Quill told her, trying to make his voice sound light. God was he tired. 

“But... are you alright?” Holly asked, glancing at his cheek. Quill touched it with his fingers and winced as pain bloomed under the light touch, but they didn’t come back wet. 

“I’ve had worse,” he decided. “You should go after him, make sure he gets home safe.” 

 

Holly hurried after her boss, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the courtyard. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the rain as he waited until he was sure that Lockwood and Holly were long gone. 

 

God, he prefered dealing with Lucy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a little detour to examine the relationship between Quill and Lockwood instead of focusing on Lucy. I've had trouble with my laptop, but it seems like it has been solved now, so I hope to write more soon!


End file.
